I was coming utama from my mother's funeral in Las Vegas, Nevada; she had been murdered. It was a bulan long stay, mostly in court, and I was tired and glad to go utama to Los Angeles, California. When I went around the last corner, (my house was the third on the left on a bukit in Hacienda Heights), I saw a black awan of smoke rising up from my side. The house was blazing the Warna of furious anger, and there were about five api, kebakaran trucks with men heavily dressed shooting white streams of cool water against the crackling beast that was in reality my house burning to the ground. When the flames...
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